Mirage
by pikapoop
Summary: Demacia: a shining city of justice and honor. The true do-gooders of Valoran. However, what is hidden beneath the golden city's exterior? The story of Lux, Garen and Jarvan IV's past. [ Based on my own headcanons basically. ]
1. Fickle Promises

A faint feeling at her fingertips. Born with a silver spoon upon her tongue. She lived the life of a Demacian noble, the daughter of the respected Crownguards who had devoted their life to Demacia's purpose.

It was never easy, though…

* * *

Five years old.

"Garen! Jarvan! Wait for me!" She called out, her stubby pale legs striding towards the two boys, who had called themselves fearless soldiers.

"Demacia: now and forever!" They would chant together, skipping happily around the streets and the fields. Fake sword-fighting together in the gardens of the palace. Only the bright sun and the blue sky to worry about. Nothing else.

Luxanna would hold onto the pinkies of her dear brother and his companion as they walked on. Looking at Jarvan back then, she could remember the faint pulse of her heart increasing and her cheeks reddening. Oh, how times have changed.

Children's laughter rang throughout the air as she remembered. The three of them would be inseparable, at least they thought so.

* * *

Eight years old.

"Big brother?" Her faint but high voice called out. She had heard his muffled cries, wondering what had happened to the brave soldier she knew. The once determined boy in the field was lying back in his bed, his breaths ragged. All the weeks of training had took a turn for the worse on the boy's body. In a few months, he would be leaving for good.

In his hand was the book they were read to as children — the story of a soldier fighting for Demacia's glory. And on top of that was the Measured Tread — the guidelines of a Demacian's beliefs.

"Luxanna…" Garen breathed, shifting his hardened gaze towards her. He reached out to pat her blond locks, a deep sigh escaping his throat. His eyes were red, but his eyes dried. "It is nothing like they say…" He mumbled, ruffling her hair. "Do not fret, Lux… This journey may not be easy for us, but we will honor our family and our city-state as we were born to do…"

She only peered at him with curious, big eyes. Protecting the home they loved so much meant pain and suffering?

"Big brother…" Lux whispered, wrapping her small fingers around his own. "We'll get through it. Like with everything we do…"

* * *

Thirteen years old.

"You will provide all the parenting she will need."

_I only wanted to show them a trick. I only wanted them to see how cool it was… Instead, I come home to my life being thrown away in front of my very eyes…At the time, it seemed my parents only wanted to broadcast my talents out to the entirety of Demacia. It seemed that they had no desire for my presence, and that I was only a convenient puppet to play the part. Perhaps that is so… but perhaps not. Perhaps they believed I had truly grown up. Maybe they thought… I was finally old enough to fulfill my destiny. _

The pain she had felt in her arms as they dragged her from the Crownguard manor. To the unit where she would spend the next five years in.

_It was never supposed to be like this._

* * *

Eighteen years old.

"You have a fantastic affinity for light. We ask that you continue your services with the College of Magic."

Yes. Studies. Studies were always her strength. She never failed to pour her mind and heart into whatever it was that was thrown at her. She loved the challenge. Logic and reason. Never emotion.

Graduated the top of her class. Improved her magical abilities and her intelligence. Became a scholarly role model as well, as well as a poster child for her city-state. No one could ever be disappointed in her.

… One began to wonder, what is imperfect about the Lady of Luminosity?

* * *

Twenty-two years old.

Dashing through the halls of the Institute. No longer a spy or a puppet. At least within her mind. She despised sneaking past the Noxian High Command, even though it earned her renown and a high reputation. The military was not for her, as it had not been nine years ago.

Garen. There he was. A fleeting moment… A breath of hesitation. Inhale. Exhale. _Garen…_ He only shot one glance at her. Two sentences. She collapsed to the floor, her body heaving with sobs. He simply watched — to show emotion over logic and reasoning here was foolish. He turned his back on her, never bothering to say another word.

_I said we would get through everything together, didn't I? _

But everything had been endured alone. Garen's training. Lux's training. Jarvan's expedition. What they all had seen, what they all had learned about their purpose… was in solitude. Fourteen years had passed… as with all bonds, time had diminished them. Their trio. Dissipated.

A mirage rippled away by the mere slap of reality. Fourteen years…

_What happened to us?_


	2. Reflection

Today was a day like any other, being summoned again and again. To say that the League of Legends was actually improving political affairs between the factions was... arguable.

Lux found herself stationed at the fountain again, ready to fight another battle. However, with her this time was Jarvan IV and Garen. She found herself tugging at her own gloves, trying to distract herself. Oh, how badly she wanted to call out to them. But somehow, their cold stern faces stopped the Lady from doing so.

Each champion went to their respective lanes with their summoners, as Lux found herself in the middle lane. Jarvan IV was in the jungle for that match whereas her brother was in the top lane.

Jarvan IV would provide assistance here and there against the annoying Noxian assassin, Katarina, whom Lux despised. But he would not speak a word to her, nor would she bother initiating a conversation then. He would simply send his Demacian Standard Katarina's way and entrap the redhead as Lux tried to snare her and help him. She hardly ever saw Garen until the summoners decided to convene, but Garen was not paying her much mind either.

After winning the match, Lux congratulated her summoner and briskly began walking back towards the magical portal that brought them back to Demacia. How was it that she managed to be so emotionless and cold towards them when they were near? Yet, afterwards when they acted as such, the light mage found herself seething with inner turmoil. However, she was the light mage of Demacia, the beacon. The one who lighted the way, and so, she continued to smile despite all that pained her.

Walking back to her quarters, the mage shut her door before sitting down at her desk. Perhaps writing a letter to them would help convey her feelings.

_Dear Garen and Jarvan IV…_

_I always looked up to you. You were relentless and fearless, and if you did find yourself cowering in fear, then you never showed it. At least not to me. And I… I always wondered how you were able to keep a straight face. To go through weeks and weeks of training until you could no longer walk, no longer speak, no longer see. Yet, you still fought for our home… the only place we knew… the city we had grown to love so much._

_I know I was young. You probably still see me as that little girl back then. The little sister who was too young to understand. To understand what it really meant to serve one's country. To preserve the honor that Demacia holds. Sometimes, I wonder what you're thinking. When you pass by me in the halls of the Institute. What do you see?_

_Do you still see the little naive sister?_

Yet after writing all of that, the mage crossed it out and found herself writing:

_Good job out there._


End file.
